Morning came too quietly.
Fina did not sleep.
She stood outside Madrex's study for a full minute before knocking.
"Come in."
His voice was steady. Cold again.
She stepped inside.
Madrex was seated behind his desk, dressed, composed, already back to being untouchable.
He didn't look up immediately.
"You are early," he said.
"I wanted to talk."
That made him glance up.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"About?"
She swallowed.
"Yesterday..."
He leaned back slowly. "Which part?"
"The bullet."
His jaw tightened just slightly.
"That again?"
"You could have died," she said softly.
"I didn't."
"That's not the point."
He stared at her now.
And something about her tone made his expression shift not softer but harder.
"You are shaking again," he observed.
"I'm not afraid this time," she said.
That caught him off guard.
She stepped closer to the desk.
"I just… don't understand you."
"There's nothing to understand," he said flatly.
"There is," she insisted. "You say you want to torment me. You say you enjoy watching me struggle. But you took a bullet meant for me."
He stood abruptly.
The sudden movement made her flinch.
"Stop trying to romanticize it," he said coldly. "I didn't do it for you."
"Then why?"
"Because you are mine."
The words hit hard.
She didn't look away.
"That's not an answer."
His eyes darkened.
"It's the only one you are getting."
She hesitated, then carefully, she started....
"When we were kids…" she began casually, as if remembering something random, "I had a friend who used to stand in front of me during fights."
Madrex went still... Just barely.
"He would d say he didn't care about me," she continued lightly, "but he always took the hit first."
A pause.
"He hated when I cried," she added quietly.
Madrex's fingers tightened slightly at his side.
"Childhood memories are useless," he said sharply... they shape people and make people weak."
Her heart twisted.
"You remember everything, don't you?" she thought to herself.
His gaze snapped to hers.
"Be careful," he warned.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Don't you have a childhood you crave so much?... For me, it's Evan and that's the more reason I can't believe he'd betray me... He has been there for me since childhood.
The room froze.
It was subtle.
So subtle most people wouldn't see it.
But she did.
His jaw tightened.
A flicker of anger mixed with jealousy.
Then it was gone.
"I don't eat care," he said flatly.
"You used to," she said gently.
His stare turned icy. "You are overstepping."
"I'm just talking." Fina answered
"You're digging." Madrex said
Silence stretched.
He stepped closer, voice dropping.
"I don't know what game you think you are playing."
"No game."
"Yes," he said coldly. "There is."
He leaned down slightly.
"You don't get soft with me, Fina."
Her breath caught.
"I wasn't trying to."
"Yes, you were."
His voice sharpened.
"You don't look at me like that. You don't question me like I owe you answers. And you don't bring up sentimental nonsense to test me."
Her heart skipped.
He noticed.
Not what she knew.
But that she was testing.
She stepped back slightly.
"I just thought...."
"That's your mistake."
His tone went colder than ever.
"You are confusing protection with affection."
That hurt... She tried to steady her voice.
"Is it wrong to be grateful?" she asked bluntly...
"Yes."
The word came instantly.
She blinked.
He continued, harsher now.
"If you start attaching meaning to my actions, you will suffer more."
"So you want me to hate you?"
"Yes."
He didn't hesitate.
"Because hate is cleaner than hope." he said
The room felt smaller.
Her chest tightened.
"You are pushing me away," she whispered.
"I'm keeping you in place," he corrected.
His eyes scanned her face.
"You changed overnight."
Her pulse spiked... He stepped closer.
"And I don't like changes I didn't cause."
"You're being colder," she said quietly.
"Why?"
"Because you are starting to look at me like I'm human."
Her breath faltered.
"I am nothing like your supposed childhood friend," he said firmly.
Her heart slammed.
He doesn't know... He doesn't know I know.
She lowered her gaze.
"I didn't say you were."
He studied her.
Then turned away.
"From today onward," he said coldly, "you don't come into my study unless I call you."
That stung.
"You don't ask me personal questions."
Her throat tightened.
"And you stop trying to soften something that isn't meant to be soft."
Silence.
She nodded slowly.
"Yes, sir."
That word made something flash in his eyes.
But he didn't react.
"Good," he said.
She turned to leave.
Hand on the door.
Then she said softly, without looking back:
"You still step in front of danger without thinking."
He didn't answer.
She opened the door.
"And you still lie when you care."
The door closed... Madrex did not move.
Her words echoed in the quiet. "Evan has been there for me since childhood".
His fingers slowly curled at his side.
She said his name with certainty.
With warmth.
A small, almost invisible crack formed in his composure.
"She doesn't even remember…"
Not me.
He exhaled slowly, the sound barely there.
He had recognized her instantly. The stubborn tilt of her chin. The way she trembled but refused to back down.
Fi fi.... He had found her again.
And she looked at another man when she spoke about her past.
His jaw tightened, not in anger… but something closer to hurt.
"It's better this way," he whispered to himself.
If she remembered the boy he used to be…
She would see what he became.
And she would look at him with fear instead of confusion.
He straightened, the softness vanishing from his face.
"It's better she never knows."